The Winter Willow
by SuperWhoLockian75
Summary: After a drunken night in a bar w/Sherlock Holmes, John's younger sister Faith finds herself with more than just a nice memory. 9 months later she decides to visit him on New Year's Eve, then all hell breaks lose when Faith goes into labor right in 221B. Now it's a matter of time before the child is born & Sherlock has to decide whether or not he wants to become a father after all.
1. New Year's Eve, a Bar, and a Memory

**Note: The character Faith Watson in this story is an OC from my friend TardisChic who is also on this site. Feel free to check her out. :)**

The night was cold and yet so full of warmth at the same time. It was New Year's Eve in England and London was practically bursting with people waiting for the fireworks at the stroke of midnight. Big Ben would explode with color and everyone would cheer and embrace their "special someone", everyone except for Faith. She was currently hanging out at her favorite pub with a couple girlfriends who she knew would be getting lucky later in the night. She, on the other hand, was being responsible sitting and sipping at her lemonade considering the almost-ready baby in her belly. And she had one person to thank for that baby.

Sherlock Holmes.

It had happened right in that bar 9 months ago. He had just finished a rather challenging case, so he told her, and was weirdly chipper about it. Her brother and Sherlock's friend, John Watson, had explained to her what he could of Sherlock's fondness for crime and puzzles, and it was rather… odd. But he was odd, and watching him explain and deduct incredible things in front of her while having this beautiful gleam in his ice-blue eyes, you could say, is where Faith first grew fond of him. Sherlock was in no way ordinary, not by a long shot. From his tall, lean figure to his raven-colored hair, as well as his high cheekbones and strangely-shaped lips, he was a sight to behold. His feline eyes and long face only added to its oddness.

Sherlock wasn't really Faith's type, but they both had too many drinks in them and the night was young. John had just left with a possible girlfriend and didn't necessarily realize he had left her alone with Sherlock, but that was A-OK by her. It gave them a chance to talk at least. And man, did he talk. Deducing everything he could around them at a million miles an hour while she could barely keep up. She didn't, and still didn't, quite understand how he could think like that with several glasses of wine in him. But she drew to him like a moth to a flame and, thinking back now sitting in that same pub, she couldn't exactly say she completely regretted what came after the wine and deductions. Although the thought of how John would react to this did cross her mind a few times.

Faith smiled and took another sip of her lemonade, hearing the count-down to midnight on the telly and, frankly, from all over the whole city. She was usually a social butterfly, going around to everyone to see how they were and what was new, but she wasn't quite feeling up to it tonight, which her friends understood again considering her little bun-in-the-oven. Everyone in the bar cheered and shouted "Happy New Year!" once the countdown stopped and Big Ben burst with fireworks. Hugs and kisses were visible everywhere and even Faith couldn't help but hug her friends with the energy in the room. She also couldn't help but think of Sherlock, though, and whether or not he had someone to share the occasion with. Faith knew he and John shared a flat together, but that didn't necessarily mean they were together tonight. Maybe she could…

"No, he's probably busy." Faith muttered to herself. Besides, she still hadn't gotten over her anger at him for doing this to her in the first place. She glanced outside at the bust and slightly crowded streets, all the people looking at the fireworks and huddled together in the cold. Faith smiled and looked back at her friends, thinking differently about Sherlock.

"Hey guys, I gotta go. There's someone I need to see." One of her friends groaned.

"Aw Faith, you can't leave now! The party's about to start." She glanced around and gave a cute guy a wink at the bar. Faith laughed.

"Maybe for you girls, not so much me these days. I'll call you later." Faith said while exiting the pub. Her friends waved at her through the window and she waved back. Luckily she hadn't forgotten her brother's new address. She flagged down a cab and slid inside.

"221b Baker Street please." Faith told the cabbie. He put the car in gear and started down the road.

It had been quite a while since Faith had seen Sherlock Holmes, and she thought it was about time they reconnected and, if she was lucky, perhaps restart the old flame that they once had. Besides, it was a new year, and anything was possible, even miracles.


	2. A Late Night In 221B

The sound of Sherlock's violin resonated throughout 221b as he played _Auld Lang Syne_, the standard tune always heard after the stroke of midnight on New Year's. John and Mrs. Hudson were sitting down enjoying some wine on account of the occasion as well. Once he'd finished, he gave a curt bow to an ever-applauding Mrs. Hudson while John brought the glasses and wine bottle back to the kitchen.

"That was beautiful Sherlock!" she praised. "You've been practicing haven't you?" the lady gave a smile which Sherlock returned.

"Only the best for you, Mrs. Hudson, you know that." Sherlock quipped and set his violin aside. She gave a chuckle at that.

"Flattering me won't make me forget about the bullet holes in my wall." Mrs. Hudson came back with and caught Sherlock a bit off guard. John couldn't help but laugh in the kitchen at her cleverness. "Well, I suppose I'd better turn in. I'll see you tomorrow boys." She stated and rose to leave. John appeared from the kitchen and gave her a hug.

"Good night, we'll see you in the morning." John said and led her out.

Sherlock was fixated looking out the window at the city below when John came back in. He was wearing his standard black suit and purple button down, but there was something off about his stature. John knew immediately who he was thinking of.

"Thinking about Faith are we?" John casually asked. Sherlock immediately turned around and stared at John for a second.

"What? Why would you think that? I thought we've been over the topic of how I feel about relationships. Besides, that was ages ago and a one-time occurrence as well as her being your sister... it wouldn't have worked out." Sherlock rambled out instantly going on the defensive position. "She meant nothing to me so you can get that idea—"

"OK, OK!" John interrupted. "It was just a simple question. No need to get all testy about it. And I really wouldn't have minded all that much if you had a relationship with her you know." Sherlock turned back to the window and placed his hands behind his back. "Although, I'll never forget that slap she landed on you after she told you she was pregnant." He muttered with a slight grin. "At the time it did seem rather... _deserving. _You're lucky I was in the other room for most of that conversation, or else you wouldn't be alive right now."

"Don't remind me." Sherlock nearly growled. He brought a hand up to touch his right cheek, but quickly whipped it back behind his back. He remembered that day all too well…

* * *

It was a couple days after the late night at the pub and Sherlock and John had just returned to the flat... to find Faith sitting cross-legged and cross-armed in Sherlock's chair. At first it took him a couple seconds to work out who she was and how she'd gotten in; at the same time John had asked those same questions. Faith stood up, walked over to Sherlock, and with a straight face told him,

"I'm pregnant, Sherlock, and I'm pretty sure you're to blame." And before he could open his mouth to speak, _WHAM!,_ right across the face she slapped him. John immediately reacted and helped Sherlock back up, checking his face for any (permanent) damage.

"Faith! What the hell was that for?" John questioned a bit startled. "And did you just say what I thought you just said?"

"Yes you heard right John; your consulting detective here got me pregnant. I think that's reason enough to hit him." Faith retorted, crossing her arms again. John couldn't exactly disagree with her on the matter.

"So that's what you two were up to when I left you guys at the pub." John suddenly realized, then turned a bit cross. "Sherlock, you... oh, God! She's my sister!"

"I realize that John, now, I need to speak to Faith alone please." Sherlock said rubbing his slowly-turning-red cheek. John looked at the both of them, then focused on Sherlock.

"I'm not sure I _should_ leave you alone with her." John said and fixed him with a glare.

"Oh for heaven's sake John, I'm not gonna kill him and he's most _certainly _not gonna do anything to me... I won't let him. So if you wouldn't mind..." Faith trailed off and looked toward the stairs that led upstairs. John looked at her and sighed.

"Oh, alright. But please, keep the blood off the furniture or Mrs. Hudson will have your heads." John turned to leave, but added while looking at Sherlock, "And keep your hands to yourself, Sherlock, or I'll have yours." And with that he left and went up the stairs. They stood there for a few moments before anyone spoke, mainly so Sherlock could get his bearings again and think about what John had just said. He had never heard John speak to him like that before, and it was rather alarming and yet very admirable of him at the same time. Sherlock found himself liking that side of John a bit more now. During this time he managed to properly notice Faith; she had light brown hair much like John's with the exception of her brown eyes and 5'8" height. She was also a bit tan considering it was early May and he knew she liked to be outdoors.

"Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Faith was the first to speak. Sherlock walked past her and shrugged off his long coat onto his chair.

"You do realize pregnancy works both ways, so it isn't just my fault. So coming in here emotionally compromised like that was quite a stupid move, even for you." Sherlock stated and glanced back at her. She frowned and said,

"Perhaps, but if I'm not mistaken, men are the ones who wear the condoms." Faith replied gaining a hard look from Sherlock. She suddenly sighed and plopped into her brother's armchair, looking a bit tired. "Look, I didn't come here to argue about whose fault it was or to point fingers. I just want to know if you… well, if we could… I don't know, make this work? This baby is as much yours as is mine, and we can—"

"What? Raise it together like a normal family?" Sherlock interrupted, speaking softly. He hadn't looked at Faith, almost as if he couldn't bear to. "I'm not that kind of man, Faith. I can't… commit to something like that." He sat down in his chair and looked at Faith with a sad face. "You're probably better off…"

"Alone?" Faith finished for him. Sherlock looked away. She couldn't believe what he was telling her, and yet it made perfect sense at the same time. "You don't know unless you try, now do you?" She said with a hint of anger. He looked at her and the smallest of smiles appeared on his face.

"Actually, I know all too well." Sherlock muttered and looked at Faith. "Besides, I don't think John would be too pleased with me acting as the father of his nephew… if you decide to keep it, that is." His face had turned slightly soft as he said this, but quickly turned hard as the feeling faded. "You can do what you like with the child, whether you keep it or abort it, it doesn't matter to me. But I can't be what you want, I'm not father material. Like I said, you both would be better off anyway." And with that he stood and returned to his post by the window. Faith stood as well and joined him.

"I can't believe you would just… your own child and you say you don't care!—no. You know what? Fine. Be that way. And you know I can't abort, not like I'd ever want to, because I'm a mid-wife; have been for years and occasionally alongside John, remember?" Faith reminded him angrily, much like her older brother she couldn't help but think. She paused, waiting for a sign from him, but he just stood there ridged as a statue. How typical. "Well, I guess you've made it quite clear as to your decision about this. And there's no way I can convince you otherwise, hmm?" Faith tried, glancing at Sherlock. He simply shook his head and she sighed. "Very well." Faith turned and grabbed her jacket off John's chair and made to leave, but halted at the door.

"Sherlock, you're not the bad guy and you do deserve to be happy… regardless of what you may think." She took one last look at Sherlock, for a sign that he cared or felt anything for the life within her, but there was nothing that she could see. Faith left and made her way downstairs and onto the streets to hail a cab. Sherlock could see her from the flat's window and in that moment John came back downstairs and into the room.

"Where did she go?" John asked and looked around, then back at Sherlock suddenly realizing. "Sherlock, did you say something to her? What happened?" But he didn't respond, just kept his eyes on Faith as she entered the cab and drove off. That would be the last time Sherlock would see her until New Year's. He subconsciously wiped away a tear that had begun to roll down his sharpened cheekbone as he watched her go.


	3. A Holiday Visit

The sight of a cab pulling up to Baker Street brought Sherlock back from his memories and he quickly recognized the figure as she stepped out; large belly and all.

"Faith…?" Sherlock muttered to himself.

"What was that?" John asked just as footsteps sounded from the hall and grew louder as she ascended towards the room. Sherlock turned around just in time to see Faith Watson standing in the doorway and he couldn't remember a time when she looked more beautiful. Her light brown hair was wavy around her head and she was wearing a black winter coat that suited her now-larger figure rather well. Dark jeans and boots completed the look along with her slightly reddened cheeks and nose from the cold.

But out of everything of her appearance, the one thing Sherlock noticed the most were her eyes. They contrasted nicely against her no longer tanned skin and they seemed to have a new glow to them that wasn't there the last time he saw her.

"Hello Sherlock... John." Faith greeted them and smiled.

"Faith, what are you doing here?" John asked a bit surprised and went to hug his sister. She gratefully accepted it and returned the hug.

"It's nice to see you too John." Faith said with a bit of a laugh. They let each other go and John really looked at her.

"Right, sorry, just a bit surprised I suppose. But look at you! You must be, what? 8... 9 months along?"

"9 months yeah, any day now she'll pop out." Faith reassured and placed a hand on her stomach absentmindedly.

"That's wonderful, you thought of a name yet?" John asked. Faith glanced at Sherlock for a second only to see him standing over by the fireplace staring into its flames, not seeming to care much for their conversation. She returned her attention back to John.

"Um, not yet no. I think I'll know it when I see her." Faith walked over and gently sat herself down in Sherlock's leather chair. "I just popped by to see how you two were doing and to say Happy New Year." She half lied. Again she glanced beside her at Sherlock to see if he had a reaction, but he had only moved a few inches just so he could see Faith and John out of the corner of his eyes. John had sat himself down in his own armchair and continued the conversation.

"Oh, well that's nice of you. But I thought you'd rather be hanging out with your friends at this time of the year."

"Well, I thought maybe you and Sherlock would like some company," She leaned in a bit closer towards John, as best she could, and spoke a bit more quietly to him. "I know he can sometimes keep you pent up in here with him, so—"

"I'm not Sherlock's pet if that's what you're referring to." John cut in and gained a small grin from Sherlock, which of course he never sees. Faith laughed and shook her head.

"No! Of course not, I just meant that—"

"I think John knew what you meant." Sherlock cut in suddenly, which startled Faith a bit. "As did I. John, why don't you make some tea? Something calming preferably." Sherlock turned and looked at John who gave him a puzzled, but suspicious, look.

"At 12:15 in the morning?"

"Yes, there's never a bad time for tea John." Sherlock shown one of his fake smiles and all of a sudden had a perkier attitude, which John knew all too well as a mask. He reluctantly got up and headed to the kitchen to start the tea kettle, sliding closed the stained-glass doors behind him, but leaving them open a crack.

"I really wish you two would stop interrupting me mid-sentence. It gets old after a while." Faith said to disrupt the silence. Sherlock stood looming beside her suddenly, placing one hand on the back of the chair and the other on the arm. He spoke moderately quiet, but with a fierceness as well. He was close enough where Faith could tell his pupils were dilated, more so than they should've been in the darkened room.

"What are you really doing here Faith? I know you aren't here to just chat. And for Godsake don't ask me how I know that." Sherlock questioned. Faith was a bit taken back considering his closeness and the seriousness of his tone. She kept her face very straight and answered him.

"I don't know what you're talking about Sherlock, I just came to see if you wanted company during the holiday and John is my brother so I wanted to see him too." Faith got her face close to Sherlock's so their noses were almost touching. "Everything isn't always about you." She said just as fierce. In that moment John came back into the room with tea on a tray and Sherlock quickly readjusted himself; hands behind his back and taking a step away from Faith.

"So I've only got chamomile tea, not sure if you... is everything alright?" John paused coming into the sitting room, noticing Faith and Sherlock's awkward body language. Faith looked at Sherlock then at John.

"What? Yes, of course. We were just, um, talking about..." Faith looked at Sherlock for help.

"Ah yes, I was telling Faith about how long Big Ben has been shooting fireworks on the stroke of midnight every New Year's. It's, uh, kind of interesting." Sherlock answered quickly.

"Yes exactly." Faith concurred and they both looked at John a bit oddly.

"Right, OK then. Well, here's the tea you so eagerly asked for." John said and placed the tray on the little table by his chair.

"Good to know I can always rely on you for tea." Sherlock said and smiled, a small giggle escaped from Faith which she quickly suppressed seeing the look on her brother's face.

"How do you like yours Faith?" John asked, ignoring Sherlock's comment.

"A bit of milk and sugar please."

"Oh, I left the milk in the kitchen, hold on." John quickly went to the fridge to locate the milk when Sherlock cut in.

"I wouldn't if I were you, I don't think you could technically call it milk anymore... or a liquid to be more specific." Sherlock called after him.

"You experimented with the whole carton of milk? What have I told you, if you're going to do an experiment on something—"

"—take a portion of the object, not the entirety of it yes I know. I needed the full carton for the experiment I'm running."

"Why on Earth would you need a full carton of milk for an experiment?"

"Do you want those reasons alphabetically or numerically?"

"Boys, boys! You're both pretty," Faith abruptly cut in. "John it's fine, I can do without milk."

"You sure?" John asked coming back to the sitting room.

"Yes, now please hand me my cup if you'd be so kind." Faith said with a bit of a smile. John gave her her sugared tea and prepared his own.

"... pretty?" Sherlock thought out loud and looked slightly offended. Faith looked him up and down and tilted her head slightly.

"Yeah I think so, although I wouldn't go bragging about. You might attract some 'unwanted' attention, especially at bars." John stifled a laugh.

"Him? Being flirted on by other women? Now that is something I would get on film and enjoy for a very long time."

"I didn't mean just women." Faith said and took a sip of her tea. John practically choked on his.

"Wha—what?" John sputtered out. Faith started laughing and set her tea down.

"I was only kidding John... sort of." She suddenly grabbed her stomach and grunted, then smiled.

"What is it Faith? What's wrong?" John asked, immediately coming to her aid.

"The baby... I think she kicked." Faith said a bit excited. "Here, you have to feel." Before John could react, Faith reached out and grabbed his hand and placed it on her stomach.

"Faith this isn't—"

"Shhhh! Just wait." Faith hushed him and it only took a couple seconds before the baby moved again. John smiled lightly.

"Wow... that's, interesting." He said and moved his hand slightly. Sherlock scoffed in the background. Faith stood up and turned to face him.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that." She said sternly. "Here," Faith grabbed his hand before he could step away and placed it on her stomach. "She's your baby too." Sherlock made a sound similar to a groan deep in his throat.

"Faith let go. I don't want to feel—"

"Just shut up and wait." She demanded. Again it was a mere few seconds before the baby kicked again, and this time it was rather hard. Faith and Sherlock both felt it, and something on his face changed. He had a look of shock and a sudden fondness on his face that Faith had never seen before. Sherlock slowly smiled and looked at Faith who smiled back. She spoke softly to him.

"Perhaps now you'll change your mind about wanting her. You see, it isn't just a bundle of cells that happen to share your DNA, she has a life and, if you want, you can take part in shaping it as she grows." Faith had her hand over Sherlock's. "Please, Sherlock."

"I... I don't... think I can." Sherlock managed above a whisper, his eyes now locked on Faith's belly. "I'm not what she deserves."

"Bullocks!" John suddenly cut in. "You're the best man I've ever known, and a genius. The things you'll be able to teach that child will be limitless, and I'll be damned if I let you abandon my sister again, especially now." John stated now standing by Faith. "Besides, you won't be alone. I know a thing or two about babies." He said with a smile. Sherlock looked between the two of them, unsure of what to say.

Before he had the chance to speak, Faith cried out suddenly and clutched her stomach, her face scrunched up in pain.

"What is it Faith?" John asked worried.

"I... think my water just broke." She said and looked at John with fearful eyes. John and Sherlock shared worried glances before John ushered her down the hall and into Sherlock's room, much against Sherlock's protests.

Once John got her settled in Sherlock's bed, he stepped out into the hall for a moment to talk to Sherlock.

"She's right, her water's broken, the baby's on its way."


	4. And So It Begins

**Original chapter title is "And So It Begins..." but FanFic won't let me put it as that. -_- Anyway, enjoy!**

The clock tolled 3am in the sitting room at the flat where a busy John and Mrs. Hudson were tending to the needs of Faith. Sherlock, on the other hand, was hanging around awkwardly and doing as John or Mrs. Hudson asked of him; from getting fresh towels to boiling water on the stove. At the current moment he was trying like mad to scrub out a slight stain on the carpet that Faith's "water" had so kindly left there a couple hours ago. Mrs. Hudson had instructed him on how to do so and right now he was regretting listening.

"That's it, in circles and in small strokes." Mrs. Hudson lectured to him. Sherlock, on hands and knees, abruptly stopped his work and sighed.

"Yes Mrs. Hudson I heard you the first few times you reminded me. Please, attend to Faith; I've got this under control." He managed a tired smile, which she returned, then headed down to his bedroom where Faith lay under the sheets well under way labor.

John was at her side from the moment her water broke and his fatigue was starting to show. He had unbuttoned his disheveled shirt several buttons and was now pacing around the room while his sister dozed. She'd been in labor for a couple hours now and John suspected she would continue to be for a several more hours, perhaps even the rest of the day. That was the one thing that worried him; Faith had refused to go to hospital and now John had the sneaking suspicion that there was something majorly wrong with the way this baby was looking to come out. Usually births that took this long meant that the baby was positioned wrong, such as the head wouldn't be the first to come out, instead the shoulder or even the feet would. But without an ultrasound machine there was no way for him to tell, he'd just have to wing it.

Mrs. Hudson walked in with a couple more clean towels and a bowl of hot water, then looked between Faith and John. She noticed the worried look on John's face, set down the items in her hands, and came over to give him a reassuring hug; which John gratefully accepted.

"It's gonna be alright dear," Mrs. Hudson said and let go of John. "We're all a little bit worried, but if she's anything like her older brother then she'll pull through like a champ." Mrs. Hudson smiled and John couldn't help but smile back.

"Thanks Mrs. Hudson... you know, you didn't have to come up here and help us. For someone who says they're not our house keeper—"

"Oh shut up and be thankful I am here you git." Mrs. Hudson cut in with a wave of her hand, and they both lightly laughed, careful not to wake Faith.

Sherlock, down the hall, could hear the two in his bedroom for he was forever the observant one, and he found himself feeling slightly... out of place. Here John and Mrs. Hudson were, laughing at some joke between the two of them while attending to Faith in _his_ bedroom, and he didn't have the slightest idea on what to do about any of it. Not that he had a problem with them being happy and laughing, but the fact that he was unsure about the whole situation was, for lack of a better word, terrifying. He had finished with the carpet, as best could be expected with his limited cleaning skills, and was sitting in his chair waiting for the next string of orders to come from either John or Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed deeply, not knowing what to do and being afraid of doing the wrong thing was absolutely frustrating.

Just when Sherlock thought he'd explode from neutral boredom, John called him from the bedroom asking for his help. Sherlock practically launched out of the chair and strode to the bedroom, thankful for something to do finally.

"You called John?" Sherlock questioned. John was checking Faith's pulse and had pushed back the sheets off of her legs, Sherlock tried his best not to look at them.

"Yes, I need you to help Mrs. Hudson with the towels, we're running out and they need to be washed." John stated and didn't look up.

If Sherlock were a balloon, he would've deflated.

"That's it. Nothing else?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

"Nope, that's it for the current moment, sorry." Sherlock made a very audible groan deep in his throat. He picked up a basket of dirty towels and all but stomped out of the room. John looked up and at Mrs. Hudson who simply shrugged.

"I dunno dear, I guess washing clothes are too boring for His Majesty." She said and began to follow him. John nodded in agreement.

"Yes they are!" Sherlock yelled from the sitting room and headed downstairs to Mrs. Hudson's flat where the washer and dryer were located.

Sherlock, now downstairs beside the washer and dryer, dropped the basket on the floor with a loud _THUD_ and crossed his arms. He leaned against the washer waiting for Mrs. Hudson to come down and scold him on how towels require bleach and not just detergent or that darks are the ones that don't need bleach after that one time he accidentally forgot and had to throw away one of his favorite pairs of pants. Something like that or all of the above. He still wasn't quite sure on how to feel about all of this yet; Faith having his baby, John and Mrs. Hudson helping out while he hung around like a useless mop... the one thing he was glad for was that his brother Mycroft hadn't been alerted to all of this yet. Sherlock could only imagine what he would have to say on the matter. Mrs. Hudson appeared from the doorway and Sherlock looked down and away, knowing what she was going to say.

"I know what you're thinking dear, and I'm here to tell you that you shouldn't be thinking it." Mrs. Hudson said and stood by him, her hand on the washer and the other on her hip. "Now, help with the washing would you? Help get your mind of things, at least for a little while." She smiled and went to open the door on the washer, but Sherlock got to it first.

"Why not? Although, my mind hardly ever 'gets off of things', but I appreciate the advice." He smiled back, slightly, and grabbed some towels and threw them in, Mrs. Hudson following his lead. After that task was done, Sherlock put the detergent in and went to start the machine when Mrs. Hudson stopped him.

"Forgetting something dear?" She asked and went to go upstairs. Sherlock thought for a second and scanned around the washer supplies, looking for—

"Bleach!" He exclaimed suddenly.

"You're a genius, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson called from the stairs, with a hint of sarcasm and amusement. Sherlock was about to form a witty comeback when he thought better of it, oddly. He grabbed the bleach, poured some in, and all but slammed the cover shut as he started the machine. As he went to go upstairs he heard John exclaim something he couldn't make out and frantic footsteps. Sherlock bounded up the stairs and into the flat, then down the hall and into his room.

He had never seen so much blood in his life, and that was the last thing he remembered before stars covered his eyes. Then the blackness hit him.


	5. The Squeamish Detective

"Sherlock!" John had yelled for his friend to come and help him since Faith all of a sudden started hemorrhaging. What he didn't expect was for him to faint at the sight of all the blood covering the bed and his hands; John had been sure Sherlock wasn't that squeamish, but this was the apparent time to be proven wrong.

"Unbelievable—Mrs. Hudson could you see if he's OK please?" John asked her incredibly annoyed. She knelt down beside Sherlock and checked his pulse and pupils, as she had seen John do numerous times, and concluded that he was indeed alive.

"He'll have a bloody headache though when he wakes up." Mrs. Hudson stated and John had to agree with her. Faith was semi-conscious at this point, mostly due to the sudden loss of blood in a painful manner, and looked over at Sherlock sprawled on the floor and giggled.

"I never knew he was such a… baby around blood." Faith slightly panted out, light-headed and exhausted from her current ordeal.

"Me either, you should see half the things he messes around with in his experiments. You never would've guessed." John said and smiled. Mrs. Hudson had started lightly shaking Sherlock to see if that would wake him up, but there was no luck in it.

"Oh, John he won't wake up. Have you got anythin' for it?" Mrs. Hudson asked, but he was busy attending to the mysterious bleed coming from somewhere in his sister. She turned back to Sherlock and did the only thing she could think of to wake up an unconscious man.

Mrs. Hudson slapped him.

Sherlock woke up with a start and immediately brought a hand to his cheek to rub it with a look of astonishment on his face.

"What the bloody hell was that for?!" Sherlock demanded and started to sit up.

"I'm sorry dear; I wasn't sure what else to do. Besides, it was quite shameful of you the way you fainted like that at just a little blood. Think of it as karma." She patted him on the leg and stood up to head back over to John. Sherlock was still sitting on the floor, slightly stunned and still rubbing his now-reddened cheek.

"If you're down having a lie down I'd like your help Sherlock, before my sister bleeds out all over the place." John said and offered him a hand up. Sherlock took it and stood up; looking at the crimson massacre all over what used to be his clean bed. He sighed and looked at John.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Well, you can start by getting me clean gloves and calling 999—"

"No!" Faith suddenly exclaimed. "You can't! I… can't go to hospital."

"Faith don't be ridiculous! If I can't stop your bleeding you're going to die and there's not much I can do for you here at the flat." John stated trying to put some sense into his sister.

"I have faith in you John, if anyone should it's me." Faith quietly said and grinned. John and Sherlock shared a look for a few seconds and Sherlock could tell that John wasn't going to give up without a fight. He took John's arm and pulled him to the side, speaking softly and fiercely to him.

"You can't be serious, you're going to have her stay here when you know very well there's a 10% chance she'll live?"

"Actually no, _you_ know there's a 10% chance, I know there's a slim chance she'll make it; mister Mathematician. And I haven't got much of a choice; she's not in a stable condition to move. If I tried moving her now, well… I don't think she'd make it to the hospital. Let's put it that way." John looked away and at his sister. Sherlock knew he couldn't let it end this way; he couldn't let John down by losing his sister _and_ the baby.

"She needs surgery doesn't she?" Sherlock asked; his face as sympathetic as he could manage it. John sighed.

"Yeah, she does. I don't have the equipment for it… unless you've got something hanging around that I don't know about; which is very possible."

"Well, what exactly do you need?" Sherlock asked.

"For starters; disinfectant, scalpels, hopefully some anesthetic, a suture—"

"Alright, alright! I get it, a lot of stuff… well I've definitely got scalpels and sutures, but I'm not sure about anesthet—"

"Oh I've got some of that." Mrs. Hudson cut in suddenly, coming back into the room. "Got a jar of it down in my cupboards." John and Sherlock both looked at her, then at each other, then back at Mrs. Hudson before saying in unison,

"You _what_?" They asked incredulously. Mrs. Hudson laughed and crossed her arms.

"Look you two, with the pair of you always going off and getting yourselves beat up, I thought it would be a good idea to get something to take the edge off in case either of you were so out of it I would have to take on the job of fixing you up myself. I've got a bunch of other stuff as well if you wanna take a look, I'll watch Faith here for you and holler down if anything gets too bad."

"Mrs. Hudson, I'm sorry I ever doubted you!" John said in excitement and kissed her on the check, then headed out of the room. Sherlock made to go after him, but paused for a moment in the doorway and looked back at Faith. He was feeling something he couldn't quite distinguish, was it… guilt? Fear? Or maybe even… no. He dare not say it, not even in his mind.

"You going with him dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked, pulling him back out of his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. Thank you Mrs. Hudson; you really are a life saver." Sherlock said and smiled, then headed out of the room and down to her apartment where John was locating the anesthetic in her cupboards as well as the disinfectant and other medical supplies he would need.

"I can't believe she had all this stuff all this time. Incredible!"

"Indeed, there certainly is a lot to choose from. Perhaps we don't know as much about our dear landlady as she leads on." Sherlock shared a look with John as they grabbed the rest of the supplies and began to head back up to the flat.


	6. A Means to An End

It was close to around noon now on New Year's Day in the busy flat. The curtains had been closed and slivers of sunlight were sneaking in through the gap between them where they didn't quite close all the way, casting odd shadows across all the fixtures, walls, and floor. John had been working on Faith for several hours and had finally sutured back together the tear that had caused the bleed in her vagina around 9am. At this point it was just a waiting game before he dared go any further; she had to recover at least a little bit before he tried a C-section or even a normal birth. John was currently dozing off in his chair while Sherlock tidied up a bit around the flat. Mrs. Hudson had gone down to her flat as well for a bit of rest before the next escapade of events occurred. Sherlock hadn't actually slept in well over 24hrs at this point and for once in his adult life he was beginning to feel the effects.

He was currently in the kitchen washing some dishes from their breakfast earlier when one slipped out of his hand and smashed to pieces on the tiled floor. The sound immediately alerted John and he woke with a start, frantically looking around until he spotted the wreckage in the kitchen.

"You OK Sherlock?" He asked slightly groggy and with squinted eyes. Sherlock instantly turned away from John so his back was facing him and looked at his hands. They were shaking and he was finding it hard to focus on them.

"Just fine John, go back to sleep. You're going to need it." Sherlock responded. John just shrugged and settled back into his chair and was soon back off to sleep. Once hearing soft snoring coming from John, Sherlock turned back around to make sure his friend was really asleep. Satisfied he was, Sherlock sunk to the ground and leaned his head back against the cabinets below the sink and closed his eyes. The world around him seemed to be swimming suddenly and it was hard not to drown in the whirlpool. He quickly opened his eyes and concluded that keeping them closed was far more dangerous than having them open. Sherlock slowly surveyed the room and saw the plate pieces still littering the ground and sighed. Slowly but surely he stood back up, aided by the counter, and grabbed the dust pan and broom from one of the cabinets to clean up the shards.

The sound of Mrs. Hudson coming up the steps made Sherlock look up through the doorway at her. He was pretty sure he looked like the walking dead at this point, but that didn't matter. She immediately noticed his appearance and came over to take the dust pan and broom out of his hands, seeing the mess behind him.

"I'll take care of that dear, why don't you have a bit of a lie down?" Mrs. Hudson asked quietly and kindly, like she usually does when trying to get Sherlock out of soon-to-be bad situations. She slowly slipped the items out of his hands like a police officer does with a gun from a distraught criminal when they try to talk them out of doing something they'll regret. He didn't seem to notice and unconsciously nodded, then slowly walked to the sitting room where he heavily sat down in his leather chair; tilting his head back onto the top of the chair then closed his eyes. Mrs. Hudson worried about him something terrible sometimes, but knew he'd come out alright. Sherlock always did.

She got to work cleaning up the shards from the floor when Faith faintly called out for her brother in the other room. Mrs. Hudson immediately got up and went over to John's sleeping figure in his armchair.

"John… John! Wake up dear your sister needs you." She spoke quietly to him and shook his shoulder to try and wake him. He stirred slightly and his eyes slowly opened.

"Hmmm… wha—what is it?" John asked sleepily and rubbed his eyes.

"Faith dear, she's calling for you." John looked at her for a second or two before nearly falling on his face from trying to get up and out of the chair too quickly. He headed down the hall and into Sherlock's bedroom where Faith was resting in his bed.

"You rang?" John asked with a small smile then approached the bed to check on her stats. He gently grabbed her wrist and checked his watch to measure her pulse then placed the back of his hand on her forehead to check her temperature. Everything seemed normal except her forehead was a bit warm, but that was to be expected after the procedure she'd just undergone.

"Indeed I did. I was wondering if you could tell me, kind sir, why my crotch hurts more now than it did before. And don't say it's because I'm in labor, I know what that feels like in comparison." Faith said in her typical witty nature and they both couldn't help but smile. John sat down on the bed facing her and placed his hand on hers.

"Well, I managed to stop the bleeding, which was coming from a tear in your… um, _ya know_, and I was waiting for you to wake up before going any further with any procedures."

"I see," Faith said realizing the situation. "Is the baby OK? This didn't harm her did it?" She asked suddenly desperate and John shook his head.

"I don't believe so, no. But then again without the proper equipment—"

"I know, I know… but you've done a fine job so far. That counts for something." Faith said reassuringly and took his hand. "I couldn't ask for a better brother, John. Thank you." John was a bit baffled at this, considering she'd never been this nice to him before, not that she was ever incredibly mean to him, but one could say tough love ran in the family. He smiled and looked away, not quite sure of what to say, but when he looked back he didn't have to say anything. Faith had gone incredibly pale and her face was now twisted up in pain; the most likely cause being the labor had increased and the baby was due within the hour. John quickly went to work; pulling back the sheets, telling his sister it was going to be alright, and, more importantly, calling Mrs. Hudson from the kitchen to come and help.

Sherlock had only dozed off for a few minutes, but when he woke with a start it had seemed like a lifetime. Mrs. Hudson was dashing off to his bedroom and loud, pained noises were coming from it. He could only conclude they were coming from Faith, judging from the current and past predicaments plus the higher-pitched voice and the—

"Sherlock get in here!" John's voice suddenly came, cutting through his thoughts. He immediately found himself lifting up and out of the chair and practically stumbling to his room; his nap hadn't nearly been long enough to recharge and he was therefore finding it hard to use his motor functions properly. Sherlock stopped and leaned on the doorway, taking in the state of his room.

Mrs. Hudson must've at some point changed the bloodied sheets and now clean ones adorned the bed and covered Faith modestly. Both John and Mrs. Hudson were wearing surgical-type masks covering their nose and mouth as well as latex gloves protecting their hands. Faith was propped up against the head board with some pillows as support behind her and Mrs. Hudson was holding her hand trying to comfort her as well as telling her to push. John, of course, was at the foot of the bed preparing his sister for the inevitable. He looked up and saw Sherlock standing awkwardly at the door and gestured for him to come forward. Reluctantly he did.

"You called?" Sherlock said a bit quietly and timidly to his surprise.

"Yep, put a mask and a pair of gloves on. I need your help." Sherlock looked around then, again trying _not_ to look at Faith's legs and what have you, and looked back at John.

"Are you sure? You seem to have it handled." He tried inching away a bit, but John grabbed hold of his arm and looked him dead in the eye.

"Stop acting like a scared rabbit, man up, and help me would you? What is up with you anyway? Ever since this whole thing started you've been avoiding me, you've been avoiding her, and you've been acting like none of this matters to you. Well dammit Sherlock, it matters to me! So please, for God's sake, imagine it's some sort of experiment or an autopsy, _something_ if it'll help you help me. Because right now I need you to focus and to know that you're with me." John paused and let go of Sherlock's arm, resolving himself slightly. "Well? Are you?" Sherlock, for the second time in his life, had absolutely no idea what to say. So he picked up a mask and pair of gloves from the nearby table and held them in his hands for a moment, then looked back at John.

"Always, John. I've always been with you, it's just… _this_, all of this. It's not…" Sherlock was finding it increasingly difficult to try and explain himself; his mind just wouldn't—_couldn't_ allow them to come out.

"Look, it doesn't matter. Whatever it is you can tell me all about it when this is all over. Right now I need to teach you how to deliver a baby, cause guess what? You're going to." John smiled smugly and Sherlock could feel his face turn a shade whiter.

"…what?" Sherlock asked after a second and John couldn't help but laugh.

"It'll be fine, don't worry. I'll be behind you all the way, I just figured the father would want to deliver his child." And with that John pulled his mask back up and went back to Faith while Sherlock quickly put on his mask and gloves to match, joining him at the end of the bed. Faith's legs were pulled up revealing everything they needed, not necessarily wanted, to see and Sherlock found himself looking away every few seconds. It appeared this was going to happen whether he liked it or not.


End file.
